


Sobriquet

by Emma_Bishop



Category: The Guild
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Bishop/pseuds/Emma_Bishop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive."-Thomas C. Haliburton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sobriquet

**Author's Note:**

> Written before season four, and oh boy does it show!

Cyd wakes up to the sound of the shower and knows that she's made a mistake. Once Fawkes is done with lather, rinse, repeat he'll be out the door with only maybe a "Hey, thanks for the drunken sex". The dialogue sounds lame, which is further proof why last night was a mistake. She can't even get in his head to come up with the ridiculous, logically unsound, chaotic thing that will come out of his mouth to announce his walk of shame. He probably doesn't even lather, rinse or repeat. Maybe just lather and rinse. Oh god, what if he doesn't lather? What if he uses soap instead of shampoo? What if he just uses water? Technically she shouldn't be disgusted as water is at least a rudimentry cleaning agent but she's sensitive about hygiene and the no shampoo thing reminds her of this girl in college with dreadlocks who used to use soap and her hair was all matted and Cyd could hardly-

"I want eggs"

"Huh?" Cyd says, jarred out of her grog-fueled panic. Fawkes is in the doorway of her bathroom, one of her stripy pink towels slung across his hips.

" Breakfast. We should get some. Can you be ready in ten? I've got a thing later."

She tears her eyes away from the towel and nods. Oh god, she had been ogling him. She was a skeevy skeeving thing who skeeved. Though, he had seen her naked...was seeing her naked she realized. Perhaps mutual consensual nudity ruled out skeeviness an-

" Do you think you can have your panic attack out loud? The shortness of breath and the bug eyes are more alarming than entertaining," Fawkes smirks and leans against the door frame. Looking that smug and sexy at the same time should be illegal.

"I am NOT panicking! I am confidently and intelligently contemplating the ramifications of an ill-considered one-night stand!"

"If you had said that without the little shriek at the end I might have believed you. Also, it's not a one night stand, not unless you want it to be," he says the last part too casually. He's less of an ass of anarchy than she though- " Anyway, let's postpone that discussion until protein and caffine have been ingested". She nods because even she knows chewing out somebody for interupting your thoughts is a little tweaked. Well, a lot tweaked, she's already a little tweaked.

They end up at a bistro called "Altivo's" that she has never been to before. Fawkes orders what looks like a small mountain of scrambled eggs and starts eating with gusto. She stares at her pancakes. Being in public casts everything in reality. She is an unemployed violinist with a probably documented net addiction who just spent the night with someone she knows only by game alias.

"I'm Cyd, by the way, if you didn't know. Real name. Cyd Sherman,"

Fawkes doesn't miss a beat.

"Good to know, Cyd Sherman. Should you suddenly keel over and die without identification I would be able to inform the EMT's that your first name isn't William Tecumseh and your last name isn't Charisse"

She waits for a minute, he continues shoveling eggs into his mouth. She clears her throat. He looks up, lifts an eyebrow and holds out a forkful of eggs towards her.

"Wanna bite?"

'No, but I would like to know your name."

"S'Fawkes"

"Your name in real life, the one on your driver lisence, birth certificate, tax return".

"What makes you so sure I do taxes?"

Of course he couldn't answer a reasonable question. Men who were attracted to her were either douchey, socially stunted or both. This was a such a bad idea. She can't believ-

" Why does this matter to you?"

She looks up. Fawkes has stoped eating and he's actually looking at her without a smirk or even a raised eyebrow. She looks down, this suddenly seems silly.

" Well... What would my thera-, what would other people say that I met you in game and don't even know anything about you other than that you're a level seventy-three warrior and like to quote things?"

" 'Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.' H. G. Wells. Did you like last night? Do you like now?"

Cyd thinks for a moment, she nods.

"Then fuck them," says Fawkes as if that's the final word on the matter, and perhaps it is. He goes back to his eggs and she starts on her pancakes.

She offers to drive him to his place, fifteen minutes later she's pulling into the driveway of a little red house with a " Zombie Xing" sign on the garage and a mailbox decorated with the Aperture Science logo. They sit for a minute she is on the verge of asking for his number when he says:

"This thing, y'know it would be ok if you went with me." She thinks for a moment. She doesn't like the nebulousness of "thing". What constitutes a thing? A group of people playing poker? Watching a baseball game? Participating in an underground BDSM porn ring? For that matter what will she do there? Eat chips? Get people beer? Be the gimp? Why-

" You're overthinking this . I can tell by the crazy eyes. Tell you what, I'll get my stuff and you can decide while I do that," he's gone before she say anything. He comes back with a huge black tote with "Bag of Holding" scrawled across one side. Something red and fuzzy is sticking out the top, when she lens forward she realizes it's yarn.

" What's the yarn for?" she ask once he gets back in the car.

"For a scarf I'm making. I need it for Mario's shirt and hat, not to mention the mushroom."

" So this thing is a … knitting group?"

" Technically it's an evil-conspiracy and needlepoint group, but Anna is the only one who does needlepoint these days. Here, I grabbed an extra set of needles for you," he says as he hands them to her. Cyd looks down at them. Knitting is something she actually knows how to do. Her first and only Christmas with Trevor she made him a scarf adorned with cellos that he ended up never wearing because it didn't match any of his clothes. Jerk. She hands the needles back to Fawkes and smiles.

"Ok where is this Conspiracy and Not!Needlepoint group?"

" 234 Brandywine Street". Cyd nods and starts to drive. After about five minute of silence Fawkes says:

"It's Guy."

"Hmmm?" she says not really catching the meaning of his words.

" I'm Guy. Guy Sheldon." She smiles.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Sheldon. Mind if I call you Fawkes?" He smiles and nods. She drives on.


End file.
